POEM WRITTEN IN THE YEAR OF THE ROOSTER

As we careen
toward whatever future
our so-called modern society
has painted us into,
do the Ancients watch
and wonder if we know
the way?

I try not to analyze,
but as age creeps on,
I face toward the past
as much as the future.
Mind wanders paths walked
by banished immortals,
my axis tilts and rotates
around simple truths.

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